“The great beauty of life is its mystery, the inability to know what course our life will take, and diligently work to transmute into our final form based upon a lifetime of constant discovery and enterprising effort. Accepting the unknown and unknowable eliminates regret.” -Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something – your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down and it has made all the difference in my life.”

-Steve Jobs

I went to the movie today. I came in a little late and the trailers had already started. As I sat down I heard the line, “Always remember, the Universe has a way of leading you to where you’re supposed to be at the moment you’re supposed to be there.” (From Men in Black: International).

That has stuck with me all day. It will probably always stick with me. Of course I knew this about the Universe, but I guess I needed to be reminded, and the Universe reminded me.

We don’t always understand why things happen the way they do, but when we gain some space, time, and perspective, and then look back on the significant events of our lives, we can see how the Universe led us there. If we’re lucky, we can even identify those moments when we were exactly where we were “supposed to be.” I have been able to connect the dots numerous times in my own life, after gaining the aforementioned time and perspective, finally understanding why things happened the way they did. We all have, I’d guess, if we’re attentive, perceptive, and observant enough to listen.

I needed to be reminded of this because the last two years have been very rough on me: the break up of my decades-long relationship, my only child graduating from high school and preparing to leave for college, my intense fear and apprehension about my future, my troubling doubt that I will ever find romantic love that is healthy, respectful, mutual, and deep. There have been a few winks from the Universe along the way, telling me I am on the right path, but there has been nothing that has eliminated all uncertainty. At times it has felt as if the Universe has turned its back on me.

But I continue. I get up each day, not sure where I am headed or how I’ll know when I’ve arrived. I just know that winks here and there from the Universe have shown me that I am where I need to be. These signs have also comforted me, giving me confidence and courage that everything will work out the way it is supposed to.

I have had to suspend doubt, fear, and uncertainty (a lot more difficult than it sounds). I have had to forge ahead. I have had to trust that there is a larger plan afoot and right now I am not informed of all the details. I don’t have enough information yet to “connect the dots.” Even though the journey has been painful at times, I trust without hesitation in the wisdom, love and order of the Universe.

Always remember that the Universe is not random. We all have a purpose for being here, and lessons we must learn. Whatever happens in our lives is for our own highest good. What may seem difficult, painful or unfair has happened for our own spiritual growth. I believe that with every fiber of my being. Maybe the meaning of it all will not be clear to us until later, but there is a meaning.

So once I emerge from the muck and mire and get some distance from this painful time in my life, the difficulty I have endured over the past couple years will make sense to me. I will finally “connect the dots,” and I will recognize when it happened that the Universe led me to where I was supposed to be at the moment I was supposed to be there. Whatever difficulties you’ve gone through will make sense too. Because life is not random. Such randomness doesn’t even make sense. There is a rhyme and reason to my life, your life, everyone’s life, if we just slow down for a moment and listen.

So look back over your life with curiosity, compassion and open-mindedness and find those moments when the Universe led you to where you were supposed to be. I know you’ll find them.

You might be a very nice guy, dating site man, but I will never know. You’ve put me off from the very beginning by calling me baby, or demanding my phone number, or asking if you can come to my workplace or my house. I don’t even know you, dating site man. You’re just a nameless stranger sending me messages. I don’t share my personal information with people I don’t know. And I’d really rather you not call me baby or any other endearment until we know each other pretty damn well.

You might be a very nice guy, but sometimes your messages are…unintelligible. I have to read them three or four times to make sense of them. And even then I sometimes have to send back a reply that says, “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

You might be a very nice guy, but when we meet for the first time, it’s like pulling teeth to engage you in conversation. I ask a question, you give a two or three word answer, and then you fall silent, looking at me expectantly. I shift nervously in my seat, wracking my brain for another question. I finally come up with one, and we start the whole dance again. And later, once you’re back behind the safety of your phone or computer, you have the nerve to tell me that the date felt like “a job interview.” Are you kidding me? If I hadn’t asked you questions, the entire date would have passed in awkward silence.

You might be a very nice guy, but you communicated with me for a while, then we met for a date, we communicated some more, and then you…disappeared. My subsequent messages to you went unanswered.

Sadly, there’s every possibility that you are a very nice guy, but I will never know. You have operated under a completely different set of rules than those that humans typically use when they are getting to know each other. In other areas of my life no one calls me baby within minutes of meeting me. No one sits in silence as I try and talk to them. No one asks out of the blue if they can come to my house. No one drops off the face of the earth after weeks of engaging with me. These things are unnerving, off-putting, and baffling to me. And when I’m unnerved, put off, and baffled, then I cannot be open to your charms, your appeal, or your potential because my mind is occupied with trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

And I’ll bet you don’t operate under these rules in other areas of your life either. You don’t call the grocery store checker “baby,” ask a new co-worker if you can come over to her house, ignore your neighbor’s attempts to converse with you, or disappear after spending weeks getting to know a new friend, do you? I didn’t think so.

So why do you think it’s okay to behave this way on a dating site? Why are the rules of human engagement somehow different just because you’re on a dating site?

I do want to get to know you. I do want to like you. I really do. But you’re not being real. Be real, dating site man. Treat me the same way you’d treat the grocery store checker, a co-worker, your neighbor, a friend. Be kind. Be respectful. Be charming. Be funny. Relax. Smile. Engage. Breathe. Laugh. Be REAL. PLEASE be real. I want to know you, dating site man. I want to like you. But you are not making it easy.

I recently watched the Grey’s Anatomy season finale. Grey’s Anatomy is one of my all-time favorite shows. I’ve been watching it since the very first episode back in 2005, and I haven’t missed an episode since. I won’t rehash the whole season finale storyline, as there are plenty of places to read about that. What I want to talk about is the moment between Levi (Jake Borelli) and Nico (Alex Landi), when Levi finally laid it on the line. This followed an admission by Nico that he missed Levi. Levi’s response was pretty awesome: “I know I can be annoying. I spent the day with a woman who imagines the worst. And she was annoying—right up until the part where she was a hero. I get that my feelings can be big. And my fears can be big. And I can be annoying. But I am also a pretty great guy. I care about the world. I sing with people who are scared. And I help deliver blood to dying children. And I care. And if you love me, I deserve better than what you’ve been giving me.”

I thought about that scene for days afterward.

Why do so many of us tend to focus on someone’s annoying habits or personality traits while ignoring their magic? That’s what Levi was basically doing—pointing out his own magic.

We all have our own magic. But why is it so hard for others to see? Why do people focus on the negative? And why are we so shy about flaunting our magic? I get that it puts us in a vulnerable place to be silly or sentimental or authentic. Many of us don’t do vulnerable very well. But vulnerability and honesty about who we are is what binds us together. When we share our special qualities with others, we embrace our own specialness and our vulnerability. We become connected in our humanness.

I don’t do vulnerability very well either. But I’m trying to be better. I’m going through a painful breakup and I tend to be stoic when my friends ask how I’m doing. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” I say. But the other day I decided to be honest with a friend and I admitted that I feel like shit most days. In turn she empathized and validated my feelings, which made me feel…better. I felt seen. I felt soothed. I took a step toward her, as my therapist would say, and she took a step toward me, and it ended up being a lovely moment. I liked it. I’m going to do more of that, I decided.

And so I have embraced both my vulnerability and my magic. My ex never saw my magic. I was always “too”: too emotional, too quiet, too silly (I can’t tell you how important it is to share a sense of humor with your partner!). My ex got so mired in what was “wrong” with me that my magic was forgotten. I deserved better than what my ex was giving me. And I got so mired in what was wrong with my ex. That’s not a great foundation for a relationship. I will do better next time, because I have learned a lot in this break up, and I now know that no one should have to hide their magic, and you should do everything in your power to see and appreciate your partner’s magic.

So embrace your magic. Be vulnerable. Show someone who you really are and what is in your heart. Reach out. Be authentic. Because I believe this is the only way we will make true connections with other human beings.

You know by now that I’ve been doing online dating for a while. And I can’t count the number of times a complete stranger on a dating site has asked for—and sometimes demanded—my phone number.

My policy is that I do not give out my phone number until and unless we’ve met in person and we’ve both agreed that there’s a connection worth pursuing. If that happens, I will happily give out my phone number. But until then, nope. In fact, I’ve said those very words to several potential suitors. “Oh, you’re one of those,” one man said in response.

One of those? Really? While a small part of me might understand that response, a much larger part wanted to go off on him. Instead, I bid him adieu and moved on.

You see, I’ve had the same cell phone number for fifteen years. I use it for work, for friends and family, for all my accounts, for social media—for everything. I’ve searched my phone number on Google and guess what? Because my phone number is long-established, that simple search will find my full name, my home address, where I work, my family members (including my minor child)—in short, the keys to my entire life.

Not everyone’s phone number is as easily searchable as mine, of course, but by disclosing a phone number before we’re ready, we’re all at risk of disclosing far more than we intend.

Remember that until you’ve met someone in person and gotten to know them, they’re a stranger—someone anonymously sending messages through a dating site. You have no idea if they are who they say they are and if their intentions are good. Would you walk up to a random stranger on the sidewalk and give them your phone number? Yeah, I didn’t think so. But if you divulge your phone number to someone you’ve never met, that’s in essence what you’re doing.

You also have no guarantee that the person who now has your phone number won’t bombard you with endless calls and texts. “I promise not to harass you,” one guy said to me. “And if I do, you can block me.” Thanks, dude. That’s very comforting.

And even if you block someone’s number, there’s nothing stopping them from calling or texting you from a different number.

I know someone will undoubtedly say, “But that’s what we did in the old days. If we saw someone we liked, we asked for their phone number.”

Yup, we did. But those were the days before that crazy, amazing thing we call the internet. Now a phone number can potentially unlock many private details about our lives that we don’t really want a stranger having access to. The “old days” are long gone.

Another argument I’ve heard is that some people need to hear a potential date’s voice before agreeing to meet in person. Okay, I won’t get into how incredibly awkward and uncomfortable it is to try and carry on a meaningful phone conversation with someone you’ve never met, but I will ask “why?” Why must you talk on the phone before you meet someone in person? Do you think it’s possible that they sound like a bullfrog, or maybe that they can’t string two words together? Highly unlikely on both counts. And if you meet and find that the other person’s voice is like fingernails on a chalkboard, or they’re an inept conversationalist, just wish them well and take your leave. All you’re out is an hour or two of your time.

So all this is to say that my top priority in life is to keep myself safe (also keeping my child safe, but that’s a topic for another post). No one else is going to do that for me. So it’s up to me, and giving a stranger my phone number, and thus the key to unlock the personal details of my life, is the antithesis of keeping myself safe. Yes, I know. It’s very unlikely that there’s a risk in giving someone my phone number. But “very unlikely” is not “entirely impossible.” We’ve all heard the horror stories. I don’t intend to be one of them.

I have lived in a larger body most of my life. In early childhood, my body started to get rounder than most of my peers. I have no idea why. I never ate more than my peers and I got plenty of exercise, but still it happened. It was clear by the time I was in third grade that living in a larger body was unacceptable to pretty much everyone I knew—especially my parents.

I was expected to begin dieting by the time I was eight. My father began weighing me at the family dinner table once a week, apparently thinking that shame was a good incentive for me to lose weight. That strategy backfired, because what eight-year-old understands the strategy or mechanics of losing weight? What child can control what and when she eats when she’s eating school lunches and family breakfasts and dinners? So shame was my father’s tool without the slightest thought given to how an eight-year-old would possibly know how to lose weight. Yes, the strategy backfired, but it set me on a path of body shame, self-loathing, and distrust of my body, which I have fought against all my life.

My mother got into the act by the time I was ten, making me different meals than the rest of the family, shaming me in her own way (usually having to do with making cruel comments about my body, and buying me ugly, shapeless clothes while my thin sister got to wear really cute clothes), and giving me “pep talks” (“Your classmates will stop picking on you if you just lose weight,” or “You’ll never have a boyfriend if you don’t lose weight.”). Despite all this, my body did not cooperate and I did not lose weight.

That also set me on a path of disordered eating. Because I didn’t really understand how to diet, I thought the answer was not eating. When I got to middle school, I began skipping breakfast and lunch. But that “diet” backfired because when I got home I was so hungry that I’d eat everything in sight. My stomach was in constant distress. And yes, by now the bullying had begun. Because my parents had used shame to try and tame me and my “disobedient” body when I was a young child, my self-esteem and sense of self had never properly formed. I believed I deserved mistreatment by my parents and my peers because I was, at my core, unlovable, unworthy, and insignificant. By the time I was twelve or thirteen, I loathed everything about myself, but in particular my body.

And my parents did not stop. At age fifteen, they enrolled me in a weight loss program that allowed me five hundred calories per day. I can’t even imagine how harmful such a diet was for a still-developing adolescent, but no one worried about such things in those days. And I did not lose weight—most likely because my body and brain thought I was starving and it fought to hold on to every ounce.

The sad thing is that now I look back at photos of myself from that time and I don’t see what my parents or peers saw. I see a beautiful girl. Yes, I was chubby, but had I just been accepted as I was and not harassed day and night, that chubbiness would have balanced itself out as I grew. Instead, I entered into a hell where my body was a constant source of attention and shame.

And as I grew into adulthood, I began harassing myself. I tried severe diets and rigorous exercise. I did lose weight but as soon as I started eating a normal number of calories again, I gained it back. I dieted again and lost weight, and then I gained it back. A doctor in my present life—a metabolism expert— theorized that years of disordered eating, severe diets, and many pounds lost and gained had completely upset the intricate balance of metabolic hormones that dictate how much one weighs. Once these hormones are thrown out of balance, it’s next to impossible for them to regain equilibrium. It’s a little more complicated than that, of course, but you get the idea.

I went through more than three years of treatment with this doctor, and ultimately it did not work. I finally gave up this very expensive, intrusive treatment and decided to take my chances.

But for me, the real watershed moment came about a year ago. The metabolic doctor’s treatment had not worked, diets had not worked, and I was desperate to find something that did work. A friend told me about this amazing weight loss product she’d found that led to an astounding number of pounds lost without even trying. She knew several people who had lost twenty, thirty, forty pounds (although my friend had not lost weight). “What the heck,” I thought. “Nothing else has worked. I’ll give it a try.” It was easy—just some powder added to a beverage and then consumed. I was on it for two months, and not a pound lost.

And then…I had a hemorrhagic stroke. A brain bleed. It was terrifying. In the hospital they tested me every which way, but could find no reason for the stroke. The neurologist came to my hospital room and gave me the news that they could find no physical reason for the stroke. “We think it was caused by the meth you were using,” he said in a low voice. “What?!” I yelled. “I don’t use meth!” He cleared his throat. “You had methamphetamine in your system when you were admitted.” “I can assure you I do not use meth!” I said firmly. I was insulted. They thought I was a drug addict? “Well, it was hidden in something you were taking then,” the doctor said. My mind immediately went to the weight loss product I’d been using—the “magic bullet” so many had had success with. Is that where the meth had come from? I could imagine meth would lead to weight loss for a lot of people, wouldn’t it? My friend who was also taking this product got a drug test and yep! Meth in her system too. Now I knew. I am preparing to sue the company that made this product, BTW, or I’d tell you what it is. What I will say is please be very, very cautious about what you put in your body, and always look for supplements that have USP verification. Your life is precious.

I believe the Universe is constantly giving us guidance, and the guidance here was “Love and accept yourself the way you are.” I learned a valuable lesson. I would rather be a large person than a DEAD person. I was very lucky, but not everyone might be so lucky. Please be cautious!

So I live with the fact that I am fighting a losing battle (no pun intended). I must think about every little thing I put in my mouth, every single day. Every. Single. Day. I consider this food over that food, based on a complicated thought process: how many calories does the food have? How many calories have I already eaten that day? How many calories am I likely to eat later? Am I planning on exercising that day? Lest you misunderstand, I do not think about food all day long, and nor do I eat all day long, as many naturally thin people seem to assume. Let me repeat that: I do not eat all day long. Nor do I go to McDonald’s and order three Big Macs. Yes, I hate to break it to all the haters out there, but I do not do those things. I am guessing that many larger people don’t do these things either. In a typical day, I eat Weight Watchers Smart Ones for breakfast, Stouffer’s Lean Cuisine for lunch, a “sensible dinner,” and two snacks. I rarely have dessert. I exercise three to five times a week. And still I do not lose weight. In fact, I am basically the same size I’ve been for twenty years. This has been the great mystery of my life.

In case you missed it, the paragraph above says, “Naturally thin people.” Because some people are naturally thin. I know you know what I mean. We’ve all known those people who can eat pretty much whatever they want and never gain a pound. Maybe you are one of those people. I can’t do that. I don’t have less self-control than you, or a penchant for three thousand calorie meals. I have a propensity for being a larger person, and great difficulty losing and keeping off weight.

All this is to say that, forty-some years after I first began my obsession with my body, I have come to the conclusion that the calories in-calories out theory is a load of bullshit. If calories in-calories out were true, then how would you explain that person who eats a bagel slathered with cream cheese for breakfast, lasagna for lunch, a burger for dinner, and a slice of pie for dessert, and rarely exercises, yet does not gain weight? How would you explain someone like me? Yes, calories in-calories out is a colossal load of bullshit, advanced by people who have never spent a day of their life worrying about their weight, but think they have other people’s bodies all figured out just by looking at them.

Here’s a radical idea. What if some of us are just meant to be larger, just as some of us are meant to be short, or left handed, or brunette? What if it’s all a DNA crapshoot? Why can’t we just accept the natural variations in human bodies and move on? Why can’t we just focus on someone’s good qualities, their talents, their accomplishments, and their character, rather than focusing on what size they are? Why does anyone think it’s their right to comment or pass judgment on another person’s body without knowing ANYTHING about them? Or think it’s funny, appropriate or helpful to shame, ridicule or school anyone about their body? Believe me, anyone living in a larger body is a member of the same thin-obsessed culture we’re all members of, and we’re well aware that we’re a person of size. We don’t need anyone to tell us. It is not shameful to live in a large body. What is shameful is to shame others about their bodies and somehow think that is okay.

I have long said that weight will not be the defining issue of my life. I have done many years of therapy, lots of reading, and a great deal of writing, to ensure that this is NOT the case. My self-esteem and self-confidence are much stronger now. I appreciate myself a great deal more than I did forty years ago. I know that I have so much more to offer the world than a large body type. I am smart, talented, creative, funny, loving, kind. I am the proud mom of a seventeen year old son. None of that is changed or diminished by my size. Yes, I live in a larger body, and I am perfectly okay with that. I hope you are too. And if you’re not, I really couldn’t care less.

Kudos to you if you made it this far. I know this is a long one, but this is a complicated topic, and probably not the last time I will write about it. If you want more information about why diets don’t work and why health, not weight, is what is important, I strongly recommend the Facebook page, Health, Not Diets. There are also many body-positive bloggers out there. Find someone to follow who will lift you up, not tear you down.

Unfortunately, people with ill intent come with the online dating territory. Yes, you will very likely encounter fakes, phonies, and scumbags who are out to take advantage of you. Did you watch Dirty John on Bravo? Yikes! That was a master class in how online dating can go horribly wrong, and sadly a true story. So yes, bad stuff can happen in the online dating world.

In seventeen months of online dating, I’ve encountered several fakes. Every online dater has, I’d guess. While this is not a pleasant situation to find yourself in, you can beat them at their own game. I’ve identified several red flags that might help you recognize these ne’er do wells and stop them in their tracks.

Online dating scammers will often:

Have a very sketchy profile, with entire sections left blank or with one or two word answers. If your dating site has questions or tests to more accurately match you with potential dates, scammers will rarely complete these. A real person will put some effort into their profile.

Have just one photo on their profile. Often this photo will look a little too perfect (more on photos later).

Tell you they aren’t on the dating site very often and then ask for your email address so you can communicate outside the dating site. They usually won’t ask for your phone number because they don’t really want to talk to you—they want to sweet talk you with written words, and that is best done with email. And they know that it’s only a matter of time until the dating site finds them out and kicks them off, but if they have your email address, they’re golden.

Claim to live in your area but they’re out of the country right now.

List “widowed” as their marital status. If not widowed, then they will have a sob story about how their last relationship ended, usually involving infidelity, abuse, mental illness, or something else equally dramatic.

Say they have a master’s degree or PhD because they want to impress you, and an advanced degree sounds more impressive than an undergraduate degree.

Use a certain key phrase in their messages. I don’t know how to explain this one, exactly, but every single fake person I’ve encountered has used this phrase when they respond to my message: “It’s nice to read from you.” The phrase most of us use is, “It’s nice to hear from you,” so “It’s nice to read from you” has become a red flag for me. It just sounds…odd.

Pay you effusive compliments and talk about how special you are compared to the other people they’ve communicated with.

Often they’ll use endearments very early on, calling you “baby,” “honey,” or “sweetheart.” Maybe it’s just me, but I reserve these tender words for someone I know pretty well, so this one always makes me suspicious.

Claim to be “falling in love” with you after three or four messages.

Ask very little about you and your life—even when you invite them to.

Say little or nothing about where they supposedly live. Often they will claim to live in your city but they never talk about anything local. They ignore questions you ask about their neighborhood, favorite restaurants, places they enjoy visiting, etc.

Give inconsistent details about themselves. For example, the worst fake I’ve encountered told me he was a Libra but when I asked his birthday he said September 1. Astrology is one of my many interests and September 1 is Virgo, not Libra. This same person was an only child in one message, but somehow gained a brother in a subsequent message.

Use irregular spelling and grammar (known colloquially as “scammer grammar”).

Ask for money. They’ll work up to this one, waiting until they’ve had adequate time to ply you with compliments, adulation, and sweet nothings. Once they think they have you in their trap, then they’ll ask. Usually they’ll tell you a convoluted tale of woe (a common one is that they’re in another country and their passport and all their money was stolen) and that they desperately need money (your money) to solve the crisis.

What you can do:

Most importantly, listen to your gut. That niggling feeling you get when you read their messages is telling you something.

Carefully scan their profile for inconsistencies, odd language, and other red flags as I talked about above.

Check out the supposed “details” they give you, such as where they work. The worst scammer I’ve encountered claimed to own a multi-million dollar construction company and he actually created an entire website to support his deception. I looked at the website and noticed right away that it was created with Wix. What large corporation creates their website with Wix? That was a huge warning to me that I was dealing with a fake.

Pay special attention to their profile picture. Does it look a little too perfect? It may be a stock photo, and that’s a dead giveaway that you’re dealing with someone less than honest. Use a reverse image searching service such as Google, or TinEye. These services allow you to upload a photo and search for matches on the internet. That’s how I finally caught the aforementioned scammer. This is an amazing resource to have in your back pocket!

Do not give out your email address. Tell them you prefer communicating through the dating site—and then stand your ground. That said, it’s very easy to create an email address that you use only for online dating. You can even change your name in the settings of most email programs so you aren’t disclosing your real last name. I’m not encouraging you to give out an email address—I’m just saying that if you must give one out, there are safer ways to go about it. Do not under any circumstances give out your real email address or divulge your last name.

If the person you’re communicating with asks you for money…RUN! Never ever ever send money to someone you’ve never met. Ever.

All this said, please take heart! The majority of people on dating sites are real. Most sources I found say that ten percent of dating profiles are fake, which means that ninety percent are real—and that’s a pretty high number. But please take care, especially if the person you’re communicating with seems too good to be true, because they probably are. And always remember that until you’ve met someone in person, they are a complete stranger.

When I was in college and wrestling with what I wanted to major in and thus, what I wanted to do with my life, I had well-meaning people tell me I needed to find “my calling.” If I found my calling, they said, everything would just fall into place. I took such comments to heart and earnestly set on a quest to find that mysterious “calling.”

It was clear from the comments I heard that a calling was a job—or more accurately, a career—and if I found my true calling I would know in my heart that what I was doing was “right.” I would wake up thrilled and excited to go to work every day. The added bonus was that I would also be making a positive impact on the world.

And so I searched, stayed open to the signs, and continued my quest. In college I explored psychology, law, teaching, sociology, business, and political science. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like a “calling.” I finally gave up and settled on majoring in my life-long love—English.

Of course once I declared my major, I got countless comments along the lines of, “What are you going to do with an English degree? Teach?” Um…no. English is what I love. Isn’t a calling about doing what you love? But those comments planted a seed of uncertainty in me. Still, I persevered and graduated in just over four years.

Post-college, I landed a job at a nonprofit organization doing a little of everything. My writing skills were in high demand and soon I was writing grants and marketing materials. Graphic design quickly followed because I was highly creative and seemed to have a knack for it. I got a promotion. I used my creative skills daily. But I could not let go of the idea that what I was doing was not a “calling.” I just had an ordinary job, I told myself—health insurance, retirement, a regular schedule. This couldn’t possibly be a calling, could it? I convinced myself that some perfect career was out there waiting for me and I had somehow completely missed the boat. I needed to find my calling before I got too old to enjoy it.

And so I set out on another quest. I read career books. I talked to family and friends. I went to career fairs and information sessions on lots of different careers. I discussed my “inferior” job in therapy and agonized over how I would ever find my true calling. I felt such urgency because I just knew that once I found it, everything would be perfect. In the middle of all that, I wrote a successful two hundred thousand dollar grant, but I wasn’t even able to celebrate because I couldn’t shake the feeling that what I was doing was wrong.

I was so unsettled that I began looking for a different job. If I couldn’t find my calling, maybe my calling would find me. Before too long I got a new job at the same pay and much less stellar benefits. But the job was more focused—marketing and communications—and that made me feel that I was closer to a calling. But still something felt wrong.

Despite that, that job led to fifteen years of promotions, new jobs, and an even more focused specialty. Eventually, I landed a job I absolutely adored – the one I now believe I was working toward my entire adult life. I am creative and engaged all day, every day. I am never bored. My work is respected and admired. I have a great deal of freedom. And I work with some amazing people.

And now, six years into this job, I have let go of the idea of a calling. I no longer believe in a true career “calling”—at least not for myself. Once I released that notion, everything began to fall into place. I felt much more satisfied with life. Now, as I look back on my adult life, I realize that every step I took along the way has led me to the place I am now—the place I belong. I now know and have seen that everything happens for a reason and I am exactly where I need to be at this moment.

Sure, some people have callings. They know from a very young age that they want to be doctors or artists or scientists or teachers and they never waver from that.

But for many of us a calling is much broader than that, and not necessarily about a job. In truth I now believe that we all have many, many callings of all different kinds.

My calling was to quit my minimum wage job and go to college, even though no one else in my family had. My calling was to have a child and be a mother. My calling was to write and publish a novel. My calling is to walk in the woods as often as I can. My calling is to go to Hawaii every few years. My calling is to write this blog. My calling is to volunteer. My calling is to create. My calling is to heal from my painful childhood. My calling is to always try my best to be kind and compassionate (I don’t always succeed). I have gotten “calls” to do all these things. So in actuality, my calling has found me.

You see what I mean? Jobs are to make money so you can live. If everyone waited around as they searched for their career calling, our society would fall apart. We need bank tellers, sanitation workers, grocery checkers, mail carriers and so many others for the world to operate efficiently. While they may not have been called to that job, perhaps they’re fulfilling their calling in another way. We need all of us, doing what we do, to create the beautiful and varied tapestry of the human race.

If you’re one of the lucky ones who gets a “call” to do a specific job or career and then you get to do it, that’s amazing. But I think there are many, many ways to fulfill your various callings. Listen to your heart and move toward those activities, interests and people that call to your soul.

And so I am finally at peace with who I am. I know I’ve found my calling—to be me and to do what I do as only I can do it. To be true to myself and to use my strengths and talents—that has been my calling.

I wish someone had told me this many years ago, but at least I know now.